


Marie Contrary

by politicalmedievalistnerd



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, French History RPF, French Revolution RPF, Historical RPF, Marie Antoinette (2006)
Genre: 2000s, Alternate Universe - 2000s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Modern Royalty, Sibling Bonding, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10734330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmedievalistnerd/pseuds/politicalmedievalistnerd
Summary: Antonia is supposed to be meeting the man they call the King of France tonight. Her older brother doesn't think she's ready. Short one-shot.





	Marie Contrary

**7 February 2002**

“Antonia, Mama wants to see you.”

She smacked her lips in front of the mirror appreciatively. Everyone said the colour looked  _ great  _ on her - it was a ripe, rosy peach colour. It matched her blush, which was important, because it brought out her eyes, and Mother always said that her eyes were one of her best features.

“Do you think I look more like Britney Spears,” she pondered, “or Lindsay Lohan?” Antonia dropped her brush down onto her bright pink vanity, spinning around in her chair. “Joseph, how old  _ is  _ Lindsay Lohan? Do you think Mama can organise with me to meet her? She’s so pretty!”

 

Very slowly, Joseph shut his eyes. “She’s a year older than you. But never mind that, Mama wants you dressed to the nines tonight, and she wants to see you.” Nervously, he peeked a glance at his sister, who was now standing up. Antonia flashed herself a smile in the mirror. Tonight was exciting - they were going out to this  _ darling  _ little restaurant, very high end, and she was to sit with Mama and meet Louis Bourbon. He was nicknamed the King of France because he was the biggest celebrity from there in like,  _ ever.  _

 

“Do you think she’ll like this?” Antonia asked, suddenly anxious, grabbing another tube of blue eyeliner and waving it in her oldest brother’s face. “Look - I mean, the jeans are  _ so  _ good, they’re hit, you know, but like, like - this one I’ve got on?” She gestured to her purple and white striped shirt. “Or I have this  _ adorable  _ pink cami, but Mama said it might get cold. I could always put my army jacket it over it, though. Or my new juicy couture jacket! Have you seen it, Joseph? Come look!” 

 

“Antonia,” he scolded. “Mama won’t care too much about what you wear. You always look perfect, little miss. How is your French?”

Antonia ran her fingers across her hairline, pressing her lips together. If there was one thing she hated more than a bad hair day, it was  _ French.  _ It was such a stuffy language to speak, and it was even worse now that Mama had her taking remedial classes after school to improve it. She sighed and sat back down in her chair, slumping over and pouting.

“Bonjour,” she snapped, rolling her eyes. “Can’t they just speak German?”

“ _ Mademoiselle, comment ca va?” _

“I don’t speak Spanish as well!” she said angrily, cheeks flushing. She didn’t even need the blush. Deciding to ignore her brother, she swung around and snatched her pink clutch off the table, slinging the silver chain over her shoulder carelessly. 

“That was French, dear sister,” Joseph advised her, raising an eyebrow. Antonia smoothed over her hair before throwing herself dramatically onto her fluffy pink comforter that was draped across the bed.

 

“Cyst old, boulangerie,” Antonia grumbled. Joseph frowned at her, tilting his head to one side, and the teenager immediately burst into fits of laughter, kicking her long leg wildly. “Gotcha! See, I do know French!” Antonia launched herself into the air and pulled her brother into a hug as she spun, grinning toothily and holding back giggles. “Oh, Joseph.”

“What did you say?” He asked, furrowing an eyebrow. She bent over herself laughing, clutching at her sides.   
“Oh, oh, I called you old, brother!” It was really a miracle that she’d remembered that sentence, considering she spent the last French lesson painting her nails with white-out. 

He shook his head, and pulled his little sister closer, to kiss her forehead. “Oh, Antonia.”


End file.
